It Takes Three to Tango
by ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: What happened right after the girls stormed out of the billiard room at the end of Take Me Or Leave Me? Missing scene in 3 parts. Please R&R!
1. Maureen

**A/N- Hello my fellow readers and reviewers! This fic is gonna be a short one. It's a missing scene in 3 parts, takes place right after Take Me Or Leave Me (movie based.) Enjoy and please drop me a review, because you know how much I appreciate your support and feedback (pouts). I wanna thank A Leap of Faith for helping me with this one with spell check and some great ideas. Rated T just to be safe, I really wasn't sure if I should downrate it because I've seen worse rated lower, so please tell me what you think and it will be fixed.**

**Disclaimer- Jonathan owned them. He still does, forever. I'm just playing.**

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**It Takes Three to Tango **

**Part 1**

_I'm Gone!_

The words still echoed in her ears as she stormed away from the billiard room. She had no idea where she was going, or what she was going to do now. She just had to get away from all those people that stared at her as if she was crazy. Even if she was, it was none of their goddamn business. Her head was spinning madly after all that champagne. Four glasses, was it? Five? She couldn't keep up. How pathetic was that? She could hardly keep her balance. She noticed the staircase just before she bumped into it full force. She cursed it and strode forward. Her high heels clang against the parquet floor as she crossed the nearly deserted ballroom on her way to nowhere. A bottle of champagne on the bar caught her attention, and she snatched it before she could think better of it. A couple of waiters and the remaining guests raised their heads as she passed, looking at her strangely. It felt as if they were scorning her. The pretty waitress she was flirting with before was nowhere to be seen. Too bad, she thought bitterly. I could use some consolation now.

She had to get out of there. Out, that was a good idea. She pushed the heavy doors open and went out to the club's immaculate gardens. They caught a glimpse of them before when they were parking the car, and Mr. Jefferson couldn't stop talking about how beautiful those gardens were at spring time. A sudden chill ran through her and she embraced herself the best she could. It looked as if it had rained, but they were inside and didn't notice. Her teeth started chattering, and she thought of her jacket, laying someplace in the warm, cozy, snobbish club. She wouldn't dare going back inside to get it. She wouldn't dare facing anyone right now. Might as well freeze to death, she didn't care. Maybe it was for the better.

A wooden bench was hidden behind some thick rose bushes. She just sat still for a second, trying to calm her shaky nerves. Glancing at the bottle she grabbed earlier, she raised it to her lips and took a long sip. She closed her eyes in concentration, as if to track the liquid's way down her throat. Feeling too giddy to just sit and do nothing, she got up, leaving the bottle on the bench, and started pacing back and forth. The alcohol, although not as strong as she hoped for, still had its blessed affect on her, as always. Thank God for small miracles.

She could feel the remainders of adrenaline buzzing through her, slowly mixing with anger and fury. Not because of what had just taken place in there, not even because of Joanne. She was angry with herself. How could she lead her on like that when she knew it was hopeless? Why wasn't she smart enough to cut it off before it got too far? What was she thinking, agreeing to it in the first place? An engagement party? What the hell? Commitment? Yeah right. It could never have worked and she knew it damn well!

It's not that she was scared. Okay, so she _was_ scared, but that wasn't the point. Or maybe it was? So she was terrified from committing herself to one person for the rest of her life. What's the big deal? Was that so wrong? She was young, why should she limit herself? She just wanted to make the best out of life. Commitment would only take her down.

She knew that this fear was the reason she could never keep up with a solid, long- lasting relationship in the first place. She just needed the distraction every now and again. She got bored easily, she always had. And it had nothing to do with the person she was in a relationship with. Really, it didn't. Mark was her first, just as she was his. She had never been into a relationship before. She had never dated the same guy more than three times. It was a kind of an unwritten rule. Up until Mark. She really didn't know how they got there. He wasn't her usual type, but there was something so sweet and childlike about him that fascinated her. She was full of doubts before their first date. They were so different; could they possibly get along? But surprisingly, they had the most amazing time together. Pretty soon she moved in with him, to the loft he shared with his friends, and before she knew it, it was their one year anniversary. He'd marry her if he could. He didn't have to say anything; she just knew he would. And the last thing she wanted was to hurt him with a refusal if he'd ever get the courage to propose, so she gradually backed away. In spite of the nonsense Roger fed him at the time, she never cheated on him. How could she? She loved him. She really did. She was just scared.

She found the perfect escape when Joanne came along. They met at the bar she was waitressing at. Joanne was there with her work colleagues, celebrating the ending of a case. The attraction was mutual, immediate, inevitable. It was weird, because even though she had flirted with women before, it was the first time she actually felt something back. It was Joanne who made the first step, slipping her a piece of paper with her phone number, and it took her some time to brew enough courage to give her a call and ask her for coffee. She had never intended to cheat on Mark, to do anything behind his back. It just happened, as cliché as it sounded. Joanne was everything that Mark wasn't. She was fire. She used to think of it as the reason for why they hit it off right away. They had almost nothing in common. At least this was how it looked like at first. But in spite of that, they had the most incredible couple of months. Why the hell did Joanne have to ruin everything with that big, scary word again?

She knew why Joanne was angry the day they had that appointment at Buzzline. She shouldn't have flirted with that secretary. But she couldn't help it. She never could. It was second nature to her; there was no harm in flirting. It was like a game, a game that she had to play every now and again to make sure she hadn't lost her touch. She always knew when to stop it. She had limits; she knew how to watch herself. She thought it was cute, the way Joanne got insanely jealous. It was something she never expected Joanne to do. And she would never admit it, but she was a bit jealous too, when she watched Joanne and Mark get along so well. But why, why, _why_ did she have to get herself into that trap? Why did she have to act as if commitment wasn't a big deal when it was? Why didn't she just tell Joanne how scared she was? Joanne would have understood. She should have stopped it before it got too far, she scolded herself. Now who knew if Joanne would ever listen.

Somehow, she was able to ruin another relationship, another chance for happiness, and she hated herself for it. She hated hurting people, but somehow she always ended up doing just that. She was tired of it. Why couldn't she make it stop?

Tears. Oh no, not now, she thought, trying to wipe them as best she could without smearing her makeup. In spite of her dramatic persona, she hardly ever cried. Crying in movies didn't really count. The last time she had a real, good-for-the-soul cry was when April died, she suddenly realized. She remember how purified she felt afterwards, as if she got out all her grief and anger. But she would never admit it to others. As far as they were concerned, she was an emotionless ice queen. She never bothered to prove them wrong. At some point she started to believe it herself. She always felt as if she had to give some justification for her tears. This time, she blamed it on the alcohol.

Someone put something on her shoulder, putting an abrupt end to her reverie. She turned around, startled. "Mark."

There he was. Without his camera, she suddenly noticed, somewhat surprised. Somehow, he managed to look adorable in that suit he was wearing, that didn't match neither the dress shirt he had underneath or his tie. It was a bit short too, as if he wore it for his Bar Mitzvah years before and didn't buy a decent suit ever since. If it was another man wearing it, he had no excuse. Somehow on Mark, it looked just right.

"I thought I might find you here," he said lightly, but couldn't hide his worried expression when he noticed her tears. He didn't say anything about it though. "I thought you'd need this," he added quietly, nodding towards the jacket he had just laid on her shoulders.

Sweet Mark. She didn't deserve him. She never has. Yet at the same time she was so lucky to have him. He was so damn good to her and all she did was to keep him hurt and miserable. She felt like such a loser. "Thanks."

He hesitated, but then asked carefully, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she answered shortly. I'm fine, she repeated with no words. She couldn't even convince herself.

"I didn't have a chance to congratulate you earlier. I guess it's kind of useless to do it now, huh?"

She smirked. I'd say, she thought, but didn't say anything.

They just stood there for a long moment in silence, observing one another. She wasn't sure what to say. Part of her wanted to scream at him to get lost, she didn't need his pity. But then there was this other part of her that wanted him to stay. She didn't want to be alone. And Mark would never criticize her.

"Look, Maureen…"

Or so she believed. She sighed. "Don't. I don't feel like talking about this right now, okay?"

He looked as if he disagreed, but then he thought better of it. "Fine." His gaze shifted towards the bottle of the champagne on the bench. She followed his gaze. It was nearly empty. "How much of this did you drink?"

"It helps me," she spattered, ignoring his question.

"Yeah, I can see that," he said, rolling his eyes.

He had that preaching tone. She didn't like it. She didn't need to be preached at now. She narrowed her eyes at him, but she could hardly focus. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Did you think of how you're gonna get home?"

"I didn't." Home. Where was that now? Joanne would probably want her out of the apartment they shared, the sooner the better. Where would she go? Would they let her stay with them in the loft for a while? Maybe she could move in with Mimi. Maybe Angel and Collins would take her in. Or maybe, if she'd run out of other options, the squeegee man would want some company. Yeah, she'd be okay; she'd manage. She always had.

Her legs suddenly felt like rubber. Before she knew it, she was falling. What the hell- "Hey, careful!" She heard Mark's voice, followed by his arms that were quickly wrapped around her to keep her on her feet. Strong arms. She didn't remember them like that. Could it be in her head? He held her tight, but still kind of gently, slowly leading her to the bench. He sat next to her, looking at her strangely. "Are you okay?"

She opened her mouth to say that she was, but suddenly, she wasn't. She got the strangest feeling, as if she was on a roller coaster. It was as if the whole world was spinning around her as she was slipping down and down and down... Cold sweat was gathering on her forehead. She could hardly breathe. She let her head drop on his shoulder.

"Maureen…?"

She raised her head to look at him. His grayish blue eyes were sparkling with concern and slight panic, half hidden by his glasses. She loved his eyes. She loved him. No, wait, she didn't. She loved Joanne. Joanne loved her. But Mark loved her too, right? She knew he was still in love with her, she-

"Mo-"

She was perfectly fine. Everything seemed to be so clear all of a sudden. Too clear. Maybe she had lost consciousness. Maybe she fainted. It felt as if she was watching everything from outside her body, watching herself sitting there with her ex-lover. Was Joanne her ex-lover now, too? Would Mark fill that empty place in her heart now? But it wasn't empty; Joanne still owned it, no matter what. But she loved Mark. Honestly, she did. Could she have both? Would they want her? Would they take her back after everything she had put them through? Would they ever forgive her? Would she forgive herself?

Before she could think better of it, which, considering all the amount of alcohol she had consumed already, she probably couldn't, she grabbed Mark's hideous tie and pulled him closer to her, until their lips crushed against one another with a passionate kiss.

**

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To be continued! (grins evilly)**


	2. Joanne

**A/N: hi everyone, thanks for your reviews! They make me really happy so please keep them up! Here is part 2. This fic may be a bit confusing to read because it has 3 parts, each from a different POV, but i promise it will all make sense at the end of it. I hope that once you'll read the three parts together things will be a bit more clear. Read on, you guys. Feedback is more than welcome :)****

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Part 2 **

She hurried up the stairs and along the hall. She entered the first room she located open, and closed the door behind her. She turned around to take a look at the room. It looked pretty much like the one she had just stormed out from, only a bit smaller, and minus the billiard table. There were book shelves all over, and a fireplace with no fire. There was a sofa along one wall, and three leather armchairs in front of the fireplace. The room had a magnificent view to the gardens. She knew from her father, an old member of this club, that it was famous for its rose gardens. She remembered wandering around down there as a kid when her parents were busy with their friends, playing Bridge or whatnot. She lingered near the window for a moment, just observing the flowers, calming down. Then she noticed a familiar figure that was making its way through the bushes until it got to a bench that was hidden behind them. She huffed in discontent and pulled the heavy curtains over the window.

She had crossed the line. It was final; they were through. She had never felt more humiliated. How could she do that? How could she say all those things, in front of all those people? How could she _flirt_ with someone else on the day of their _engagement_? She shouldn't have been surprised, she knew. Actually, she was surprised that they got that far with that charade. She was so certain that Maureen would back away at some point before all that, before their actual party that made things official. It wasn't a big secret that she flirted with anyone and anything in her closest radius, so it was really only a matter of time. But why the hell did she have to do that with all those people around? With her parents right there?

She didn't want to see her ever again. She didn't want to hear from her. As far as she was concerned, her relationship with Miss Maureen Johnson was history. She definitely had enough of it. She just needed to get her life back on track, that safe, familiar track of work and routine. Everything seemed to be so peaceful up until the moment Maureen stormed into her life. More or less the same way she had just stormed out of it. Why did she always have to be so damn full of drama?

She remembered that first night, the first time they met. She had just won an important case and went out celebrating with her colleagues. She really didn't feel like going anywhere that night, being stressed and tired because of the trial and all that, but somehow they managed to drag her to a recently opened bar that was very close to their office. Maureen was their waitress. There was something about her. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it was there, and it kept her distracted all evening. Eventually, when they left, she stayed behind her friends and slipped her a piece of paper with her phone number. She had never done anything like that. She wasn't sure what made her do it that time. Pure impulse, possibly. It was so unlike her.

Maureen smiled. That slow, seductive smile that could drive anyone crazy. She carefully folded the piece of paper and stuck it into the cleavage of her black tank top, giving her a wicked wink. It took her a couple of days, but eventually she called. They met in a coffee house close to her office and talked for hours. They had nothing in common. Only that strong attraction to one another. It seemed to be enough.

She first met Mark on Christmas. Up until then she only heard of him. Maureen broke up with him the month before and moved in with her. Although she was kind of afraid to meet her lover's ex, Mark turned out to be a really nice boy. He really didn't look like someone Maureen could keep up a relationship with for so long. Actually, and she hated to admit it at first, he was very much like her.

She wasn't sure if he told her everything he did because he was jealous and heartbroken, or because it was the truth. Was Maureen really that unfaithful? If she was, how was it possible that he stayed with her for such a long time? She knew they were together for over a year. Maureen seemed to be a kind of a flirt, but what harm was in flirting? Could it be that Mark simply was awfully paranoid? Should she believe everything he said about Maureen, or should she just forget about it?

But she couldn't forget about it. Ever since that Christmas day, Mark's warnings kind of haunted her. She started noticing things, small things, she didn't notice before. Maureen loved her, she was sure of that, but she just couldn't stay focused on their relationship. She flirted endlessly when they hung out in bars and clubs, but it never got too far, mostly because she was always around, making sure she wouldn't do anything foolish. But there were times when she couldn't stay on guard, like that one time when they had their appointment with Alexi at Buzzline. She knew Maureen flirted with the secretary only to piss her off, because she was forced to stay behind, but she was still furious with her about doing it. She really wasn't sure how the whole issue of commitment came up that day. She surely didn't expect Maureen to accept it so peacefully. She should have known better. Her behavior during the party was the last straw. She couldn't do the Tango anymore. She was sick and tired of it.

_Take me, baby, or leave me_. This threat, because obviously, this was what Maureen meant it to be, repeated itself over and over in her head like a broken record. Could she really leave? It surely didn't feel as if she could. It felt more as if she was losing either way. Well, maybe not losing, exactly, but she surely wasn't winning either way. It felt strange. She wasn't used for losing. Not in her own personal life anyway.

She sighed. Impossible. No matter how hard she tried to clear her mind off Maureen, she just couldn't do that. Her thoughts just kept drifting away to her. There was no way she could shake her off. It felt as if Maureen was everywhere. She took over her completely. She owed her mind, her heart, her soul. Would she ever let her go?

She wondered if that was how Mark always felt. They never spoke about it; she didn't dare asking, and he didn't dare speaking with her about her lover. But nonetheless, it was obvious that he still had feelings for Maureen. Anyone could see that. Was that how it started for Mark when Maureen left him? Was that how she would eventually to end up?

She had no idea what she should do next. Should she try and kick Maureen out of her life? Did she even want to? No matter what had just passed between them, so couldn't deny her love for that crazy, melodramatic diva. It was impossible to hate her. Could she possibly change her? Did she even want to change her? She loved her the way she was, she really did, but she was just impossible at times. She wasn't used being out of control. Apparently, so did Maureen.

"Kitten?"

She turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Her father stood at the doorway, looking concerned. She didn't even hear him when he got there. "Hi Daddy."

He entered the room and closed the door behind him. He sat on the couch and looked at her enquiringly. "Is everything okay? People have been looking for you."

"I'm okay, I'm just…" her voice trailed off. She sighed. She knew she could tell her father everything. They were always so close. She knew that he adored her. So did her mother, but she could be so damn over-protective sometimes, it drove her crazy. Mark laughed at her once, when she was complaining about it. He said that it sounded so much like his own mom, that maybe she was secretly Jewish.

As if feeling her uncertainty, he smiled and patted the seat beside him. "Come here, Kitten, sit with me."

She did as she was told and sat beside him on the couch. She laid her head on his shoulder. She was tired and upset. Why did it have to end up like that? Why couldn't her life turn out the way she wanted for a change?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, Dad."

"Alright, so we'll just sit and enjoy the silence," said her father, only half jokingly.

She didn't feel like laughing. "How could she do that?"

Her father looked at her seriously. "Maybe she was scared."

"Of what?"

"Maybe it was the first time she realized what she was doing, once she saw all those people. It might have made her fears surface. Maybe she's not ready."

She frowned. She hated it when he talked as if he was at work. "Dad, don't use this terminology on me, I'm not one of your patients."

"All I'm saying, Kitten, is that maybe you just have to give her time to get used to the idea."

"She had enough time to-"

"It will never work unless you compromise. This is exactly what I thought would happen the first time your mother and I met Maureen."

"Yeah? Well, it could have been nice if you warned me before I got myself publicly humiliated," she said bitterly.

"I thought it would be better for you to handle things your own way. Having one over-protective parent is enough," he said winking. She laughed in spite of herself. He looked at her seriously. "Maureen is wonderful. But just as you need to be in constant control over your life, so does she. You'll just need to find a way to work this out."

"Maybe," she shrugged. She wasn't even sure if she wanted anymore. Maybe she should just forget it. Well, try to forget it. Maybe Maureen was just not the right one for her.

As if he felt her sudden lack of confidence, her father took her hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. "Don't give up on that, Kitten. Not if you feel this is right."

"I don't know how I feel anymore," she confessed. It felt strange. Sure, she could tell her father everything, but she was never that open with him regarding her feelings and relationships. It just felt kind of awkward.

He shook his head. "You're just confused. But I'm sure you didn't move from love to hate that quickly. You two just need some time apart, to think it over. Give her time, Joanne." He caressed her cheek gently. "I'll give you some time to think about it. Do you need a ride back home?"

"Yeah, that'll be great." She thought about asking him how was Maureen, but then she thought better of it. Maybe they did need some time away from one another.

He got up. "Alright, I'll come to get you when we're leaving. One of your friends gave your jacket to your mother."

"Okay. Thanks."

He looked at her for a moment, and smiled slowly. "Everything will be okay, Kitten," he said, leaning to kiss her forehead.

She returned his smile, but only barely. "I hope so, Daddy."

When the door was closed and she was alone, she slowly moved towards the window. She drew back the curtains and looked out. Maureen was still sitting there, on the bench in the garden. It looked as if she didn't move since she noticed her when she first looked out. She had her hands on her knees and her head between them. Not too far from there, the guys were leaving. They didn't seem to know Maureen was close by; that is except for Mark who turned to look back. Roger stopped walking and turned to give him a look, but Mark just shrugged and said something she couldn't hear. He hesitated for a moment, and then followed them out of the club's grounds.

Her gaze followed them until they disappeared from her sight. Then it shifted back to Maureen. It was strange to see her like that. She looked defeated, weak, vulnerable. She looked real. Exposed from drama. Suddenly she saw her lover in a whole new light. Somehow, she seemed less diva and more human. This was the side she always knew Maureen had, but never was able to uncover it.

Maybe her father was right. She just had to give her time. Everything would be okay. _Take me baby, or leave me_. Now she knew she wasn't going to leave.


	3. Mark

**Part 3**

He followed his friends out of the room. He didn't look back. He tried to ignore that constant ringing in his ears, the words that echoed back, over and over again, stinging him mercilessly. _Maybe now you two could get back together_. He could hear the hope in her voice. He could see it in her eyes. It was pretty weird, now that he thought about it. He assumed Maureen's parents were okay with her relationship with Joanne. They always seemed to be so open-minded. They seemed to have liked Joanne and her parents. So how was it that her mother's voice was so hopeful and desperate? And how could he possibly tell her that there was nothing he wished more than going back together with her drama queen daughter?

_Maybe now you two could get back together_.

Yeah, right. That would never happen and he knew it damn well. She didn't want him anymore. He had missed his chance. He still wondered every now and again what was it that he did wrong. Somehow, she always managed to avoid giving him an explanation as for why she left. Okay, so the truth was that he never had the guts to go and ask her directly, but he always assumed she'd explain, sooner or later. She never has. And now he'd have to accept the fact that they were nothing more than good friends.

_Maybe now you two could get back tog_-

"Mark?"

He raised his head to meet Collins' worried gaze. "I'm okay."

Collins raised one eyebrow. It was clear that he didn't believe him, but he said nothing. "Look, I'm gonna go and find Joanne," he said, gesturing her jacket, which he still held. "You guys stay here, we'll leave when I get back. I'm afraid the party is over," he said quietly, his eyes following Maureen and Joanne's parents, who had just reentered the ballroom.

"Fine, I'll tell the guys we're out of here," he said. Collins nodded and left.

There was uncomfortable silence in the ballroom. The silent music that was playing in the background before was no longer playing. There was just this constant murmur of the guests, who were probably wondering what happened to the happy couple all of a sudden. They were all glancing at Maureen and Joanne's parents, who just stood there, talking quietly to one another.

Somehow, he felt as if it was his fault. Joanne was so paranoid from the beginning, and lately more than ever, and he knew it was because of everything he had told her last Christmas. Even back then, he knew how wrong it was to say all these things about Maureen. It's not as if he knew anything for sure. Yes, she was a hopeless flirt, but he had never actually caught her cheating on him. It was easier to believe Roger's stories. And she had never denied anything of what Roger has said, so he assumed it was her way of confessing the truth.

Guilt started tormenting him. Did he ruin this for them? Maybe if he didn't say anything back then, all this wouldn't have happened. But how could he not say anything back then? He remembered how angry he was when Maureen called, asking him to come over and help her with the equipment for her protest. Yet he couldn't resist her. He never could, and she knew it and kept using it against him. He remembered being kind of afraid to face the woman she dumped him for. Although their first meeting was awkward, he had to admit that Joanne turned out to be really nice. Yet he was still full of anger towards Maureen, and he had to let it out somehow. Warning Joanne seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but what if it wasn't? What if it had a part in her outburst on Maureen, only half an hour before?

He wouldn't ruin this for them. If his warnings were what started the whole thing, he'd fix it. He'd talk with Joanne about this, he decided. He'd tell her the truth. They became pretty close, more than he'd ever imagined the two of them could ever be. They had a lot in common, and she helped him so much with getting his job at Buzzline. Maureen never knew, but they used to meet sometimes for coffee or quick dinner uptown, when Joanne could get off early from work. She used to buy him dinner, joking about how skinny he was and how he had to gain some weight. He loved talking to her. She was smart and intelligent, and it felt as if she was a substitution for Collins, when he wasn't around to talk. He told her things about himself he had never told anyone. It was an unspoken rule to never mention Maureen.

He made his way back to the table, where he detected Angel, Mimi and Roger, sitting and talking. As he was passing near the giant ice sculpture in the middle of the ballroom, a familiar sight caught his attention. Maureen's jacket. It must have been slipped down the table where Joanne last placed it, because it was now laying on the floor. He observed it for a second and then, against his better judgment, knelt to pick it up.

The material felt soft between his fingers. It carried a faint, familiar flowery scent. It was the perfume he got her for Valentine's Day couple of years back. Was it a good sign, that she was still wearing it? Part of him wanted to believe that it was, but the more logical part of him knew that it was probably not. It was Maureen, after all. She wasn't sentimental. She still used the perfume because she loved it, not because it reminded her of him.

He should bring her jacket back. But where was she? She was hiding someplace, he was sure of that. After what happened, she wouldn't show her face until they were all gone. Should he go and look for her? Collins went to look for Joanne, but Maureen was their friend too; he should at least make sure that she was okay. He looked around him. None of them had ever been in this club before, so just looking for her would be kind of useless. He looked thoughtfully at the entrance of the ballroom, and tried to put himself in Maureen's state of mind. Out. She would have gone out. He turned on his tracks, on his way to the doors.

"Mark." He stopped and looked questionably at Roger, who was quickly approaching him. "Where are you going?"

He had that suspicious tone. He knew that Roger already had an idea as for where he was headed. He said nothing, just gestured at the jacket he was holding.

"Don't do that," said Roger, his expression serious.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Mark." Roger looked at him sternly. "You can't keep saving her."

"I'm not trying to save her, I'm just-"

"So what, you think that just because she and Joanne had this fight, it means that there's a chance for the two of you to get back together?" Was that what he was hoping for? He wasn't sure. So he didn't answer. "I know you're thinking about what Maureen's mom told you. Don't do this to yourself, Mark, you'll end up getting hurt again."

He wasn't used to getting advice from Roger. Usually it was the other way around; he was the one giving advice, and Roger was the one listening, and ending up doing just the opposite. It felt weird to be on the other side for a change. "I don't intend on getting hurt. I'll be back in five minutes and then we're out of here." He didn't wait for Roger's reply because he knew how it might end.

He wasn't sure where to go. There were several possible paths outside, and he chose one by instinct. Just when he was about to give up, he caught a glimpse of her milky white skin behind some rose bushes. She must have been freezing, he thought, a bit concerned, as he moved closer.

She didn't seem to notice him approaching her, for she gasped in surprise when he gently put the jacket on her shoulders. She turned to face him, tears clearly visible in her eyes. "Mark."

"I thought I might find you here," he said gently, although he got slightly panicked now. Maureen never cried. Ever. Well, April's funeral was an exception, but for obvious reasons. Although her tears were silent now, as opposed to that nightmarish day, it was unlike her just the same. "I thought you'd need this," he said, nodding towards her jacket, as if he needed it as an excuse for barging in on her.

"Thanks," she said. She had this tone that he never imagined he'd hear from her. Hopeless, desperate, vulnerable. It was so unlike her usual self-confidence and never-ending drama.

"Are you okay?" he asked slowly. He knew it was a stupid question, because obviously, she wasn't okay. He was afraid she'd freak out. But he was only trying to help. Maybe she needed to talk about it, to let things out.

"Fine," she answered shortly, although it was clear that she wasn't.

"I didn't have a chance to congratulate you earlier. I guess it's kind of useless to do it now, huh?" he wanted to kick himself after asking this. What was he thinking? Would she think he was mocking her? _Was_ he mocking her? But she said nothing.

There was this long pause. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but nothing sounded right. Should he tell her that it was all his fault? What if it wasn't? She was the one flirting with that waitress in front of everyone. Maybe this outburst was only a matter of time, and it has nothing to do with everything he had told Joanne when he first met her. Still, if his warnings had any part in Joanne's reaction, he should at least apologize.

"Look, Maureen-"

"Don't," she cut him off abruptly. "I don't feel like talking about this right now, okay?"

He shouldn't agree to that, he knew. He should insist on telling her the truth. One look at her, though, and he knew that he couldn't. "Fine," he said eventually, feeling like a coward. Then he suddenly noticed a bottle of champagne on a sideway bench. It was almost empty. She was already fairly drunk when she stormed out of the billiard room earlier. He knew she had a tendency to get drunk when she was nervous or afraid. What was it that made her so afraid? "How much of this did you drink?"

"It helps me."

"Yeah, I can see that," he said, and immediately regretted his nasty tone when he saw her expression. She was clearly hurt, although her gaze was becoming gradually unfocused."What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Nothing. Did you think of how you're gonna get home?"

"I didn't."

Before he knew it, she lost her balance. He caught her right before she fell to the ground, and wrapped his arms around her awkwardly. It felt so strange to do that again. "Are you okay?" he asked dumbly, his heart racing, as he slowly led her to the bench. She looked as if she wanted to answer, but couldn't. He sat beside her and looked at her, into her. She was sweating and breathing heavily, and for a moment he thought she has fainted when she closed her eyes, her head dropping on his shoulder. "Maureen…?" he tried to keep his voice calm. He didn't want to scare her. She looked scared enough as it was. What was happening? Should he get some help?

She raised her head to face him. Her eyes were still glistening with the remainders of tears. She looked panicked and desperate. She was beautiful. "Mo-"

She grabbed his tie and pulled him towards her, kissing him deeply. Caught off guard, he kissed her back, ignoring the warning bells that seemed to be ringing wildly in his head, getting louder and louder. He could smell the alcohol in her breath but he didn't care. He missed this, feeling her so close, her lips brushing against his, her heart pounding simultaneously with his. He bit her lower lip gently. He remembered she liked it when he did that in the past. A small moan escaped her as she pulled him closer. He kept reminding himself how wrong it was. They shouldn't do this. He shouldn't fall for her. She released her grip on his tie, her arms slowly wrapped around his neck. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tighter, as she slowly pushed him backwards so that they were lying on the bench. He didn't even want to think about what might have happened if anyone decided to talk a walk in the garden.

And then rationality took over, and he pulled away and sat up. "Maureen, stop," he managed to let out, in spite of his loss of breath. She looked out of breath herself and slightly surprised, a bit offended maybe, but she didn't say anything, just looked at him questionably. "This is wrong and you know that."

Maureen shook her head. "I don't care."

"But I do," he said softly, gently touching her face. If she only knew how difficult it was for him to stop this. "You'll regret it tomorrow and I'll hate myself for taking advantage of you that way."

"I won't regret it. I promise. I need it, Mark, please. I need you." Tears were streaming down her face again, but this time it wasn't as silent as before. She buried her face in his chest, crying into the material of his dress shirt. He couldn't do much but hold her close, and rub her back soothingly. He had never seen her like this and he knew he never would again. The fact that she was acting like a normal person, letting her emotions out the way she had just did, practically begging him to kiss her, made him realize how drunk she really was. Obviously, she was unaware to everything she had told him. Normally, she would die before she'd let anyone in. She really was a good actress. Somehow, she always managed to keep her masks from falling. "I love you," she murmured, her head still against his shirt.

"Shh…" He didn't know what to say. There they were, the three words he could never think he'd hear from her again. But under the circumstances, he knew they meant nothing. He knew it was the alcohol speaking out of her.

Then she seemed to realize what she had just told him. Her eyes grew bigger as she backed away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Shh, I know. That's okay."

"I'm so fucked up, Marky."

"No you're not. Everything will be okay tomorrow. Joanne loves you, she'll understand." He was hurt by his own words. He couldn't believe he was telling her that.

She looked at him skeptically. "What if she won't?"

"She will," he promised. He found a tissue in his pocket and wiped her tears the best he could. "Everything will be okay," he said again. She still didn't seem too convinced.

"Why do I always have to mess up my life?" She was still crying, but she seemed to be calming down a bit. She laid her head on his shoulder again. She looked more focused now, but he knew looks could deceive. She would never say all these things sober. "Why am I such a loser?"

"How can you even think that? You're Maureen Johnson. You can make an entire tent city to moo with you. Don't you think it means something?"

She laughed a bit. He thought it was a good sign. "I needed to hear that," she said. She smiled, looking like her old self again, and laid a small kiss on his lips. "I do love you Marky," she added, messing with his hair.

I love you too. He stopped himself from saying it aloud.

Other voices were heard nearby. He recognized them as their friends. Maureen seemed to recognize them too. She tensed, and raised her head from his shoulder. Her hand instinctively flew up to her tear-stained face, to wipe away any sign of vulnerability.

"You should go," she said.

"You're not coming with us?" Could he really leave her there? She looked okay now, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was better for her to come along with them.

"No, I think I'll go back with my mom and dad. Maybe I'll spend the night there. I don't think I can handle Joanne so soon. I'll be okay, don't worry."

"Mark?"

He turned his head to the sound of Collins' voice, and then turned to look at Maureen again. He gave her a hesitant look. "I'm fine. Go," she promised.

"Call us if you need anything, okay?"

"I will. Thanks Mark."

"No problem. That's what friends are for," he gave her a weak smile. She returned it. He got up and hurried to join his friends. He ignored Roger's looks and Collins' questions of where the hell has he been. He asked Collins how was Joanne, and it turned out that he couldn't find her anywhere, so he left her jacket with her mother. Soon after that, his thoughts drifted back to Maureen, to her tears, that broken expression on her face, their kiss. Would she remember any of that tomorrow? Would Joanne take her back? When would this damn Tango end? Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer to none of those questions.

"Mark, what's wrong?" Roger's voice snapped him out of his reverie and he realized he had stopped walking. He was looking back, to the place where he left Maureen. They were all looking at him strangely.

He shrugged, turning to look at his friends. "Nothing, I just… thought I've heard something, that's all."

Roger shot him a skeptical look, but said nothing. He wrapped his arm around Mimi's waist as they resumed their walking.

He hesitated another moment, and followed his friends out of the club silently.

_Maybe now you two could get back together_.

And maybe not.


End file.
